


Saturday Sinners and Sunday Church

by zarabithia



Category: DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love, and kon/cassie, and tim/kon, hints of roy/dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-04
Updated: 2006-06-04
Packaged: 2019-03-09 18:12:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13486986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: Tim and Roy get to know each other a little better.





	Saturday Sinners and Sunday Church

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I wrote this much songfic in 2006, but here we are.

The first thing Grace Choi had said upon greeting Tim and Kon was "Mom and Dad are having a lovers’ quarrel. You might want to rethink the family reunion."

At the time, Tim had simply chalked it up to Grace being odd, along with the stray question of whether Roy Harper or Dick was _Mom._

But two hours later, as Tim sat next to a still pissed off Roy Harper in the Redbird, he understood Grace’s phrasing. Although Dick had specifically asked Robin to bring along Superboy for muscle - apparently Grace and Thunder weren’t going to be enough to combat Blockbuster - Tim had assumed that Kon would work _alongside_ him. The fact that Dick had taken Superboy and left Arsenal with Tim was very telling and felt a little like Mom. . .or Dad. . leaving an unruly child home with the babysitter while taking the good kid out for ice cream - if ice cream came in ass kicking flavor.

Tim would have been offended, if he had thought for a second that he was the one being babysat.

"Well, this is a colossal waste of time,’ Arsenal announced beside him. The older man tried in vain to stretch his legs, but the Redbird wasn’t made to accommodate his frame anymore than it was made to accommodate Kon’s - who had bitched the entire way to Bludhaven about the lack of leg room.

It was likely that Arsenal was correct in that this _was_ a waste of time. Still, Tim couldn’t very well say that out loud. "I’m sure Nightwing had a good reason for-"

"Being an ass?" Roy interrupted. "Because that is the only reason I can think of that we got ‘stay here and watch the goddamn empty warehouse’ duty."

"It’s one of Tarantula’s old haunts," Tim reminded Arsenal gently, because it felt a little odd to be contradicting a senior Titan. "Nightwing wants us to wait for her in case she shows up."

"Like she even matters," Arsenal grumbled. "And what’s with all you Bat people anyway? Aren’t you allowed to have _any_ personal opinions of your own or must you all band together like. . . like. . . like. . ." Arsenal trailed off, clearly still searching for a word.

"Like a band of Merry Men?"

Arsenal glared, and again tried to shift his feet. "Merry, my ass. More like a _cult._ A weird cult where they make sacrifices of young boys in brightly-colored ceremonial clothing."

Tim didn’t know whether or not Arsenal knew about Jason, or if he was referring to part of the conversation with Dick that Tim hadn’t bene privy to. Either way, it hurt a little more than Tim thought Arsenal had intended. The look Arsenal shot him confirmed that suspicion. 

"Sorry," Arsenal grumbled, his voice rough enough to hide the hurt he’d already showed that he felt. "Family’s family, even when they’re assholes." 

"It’s okay," Tim assured him. "Sometimes you need to vent." He didn’t say, " _especially when you’re dealing with our family_ ," because that would have been disloyal. He also didn’t say, _"sometimes Dick’s unfailing loyalty to Batman is frustrating to me too,"_ because that would have been worse. He most especially didn’t say, _"you don’t really think I’m like that, do you?"_ because that would have been worst of all.

And he *wanted* to be just like Dick, didn’t he?

"Yeah," Arsenal agreed, "Except I didn’t used to have to vent this much. Back when we were Titans, Spanky Pants and I went together like Saturday sinners and Sunday Church."

"You still make a good team," Tim argued. Admittedly, he didn’t see any evidence of that fact, but Roy was still on Dick’s team, and Tim had been Robin long enough to know that you didn’t get to stay part of a Bat’s team if you disappointed them. 

"Yeah, these days we go together like memories and long gones," Arsenal agreed softly. 

"I’m sorry." Tim really was. He was sorry that he couldn’t defend his big brother more, but Nightwing wasn’t the same person that had trained Tim so diligently two years ago. In the darkest part of Tim’s consciousness, he’d admit that he was losing Dick a little each day.

But he’d never admit that to Arsenal, because that would have been disloyal. 

Roy shrugged. "Never mind. So, tell me, when this exercise in futility is over, do I get to drive us back to headquarters?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"What do you mean, ‘no?’ Saying ‘please’ always works with a Robin. Not with a Nightwing, mind you, but always with a Robin."

Tim flashed his best "but I am Robin and I have secrets" smile. "Sorry. You must have the wrong Robin."

"Yeah, the costume was a dead giveaway. What happened to the Robin panties?"

"My legs got cold."

Arsenal chuckled and again tried to stretch his legs. "It’s a shame, you know. Robbie and I used to have a lot of fun with those panties." 

"What kind of fun?"

It was a stupid question, of course. If Grace’s comments or Arsenal’s nostalgia hadn’t made it perfectly clear what kind of "fun" Arsenal had meant, then his tone - which made Tim think of stripper poles, thongs, and various bodily fluids - should have.

Arsenal turned to smirk at him. It was the kind of smirk that suddenly made Tim very aware of the cramped quarters they were sitting in. 

"I tell you what. You keep your eye on the very empty warehouse, and I’ll show you exactly what kind of fun Robbie and I used to have together."

For a man who had been having such a difficult time moving around in the Redbird, Arsenal's hands gained an incredible ability to move at impressive speed when they reached for the flap to undo his body armor. 

"Ah, the more this costume changes, the more it remains the same. I’m assuming from the looks you were giving Superboy earlier that you’re not straight?" 

"No." God, was he really that obvious about it? He needed to work on that. His gaze briefly followed Arsenal’s hands as the older man set about gaining better access to Tim’s cock. 

"Tsk, tsk, Robin. Keep your eyes on the warehouse. The panties allowed for better access, you know."

"I’m not really looking for a costume that allows others good access to my penis," Tim stated calmly. 

Arsenal’s hands immediately stopped what they were doing and the older man looked up at Tim. "Do you want me to stop?"

Every bit of Batman’s training told Tim to say yes. But Batman’s training was pushed to the back of Tim’s mind and all he could think about was walking in on Cassie and Kon going at it on the kitchen counter top at Titan’s Tower. It had seemed like such horrid little cliche to Tim at the time, but Kon had rolled his eyes and gone on about the importance of spontaneity - something Kon didn’t think Tim could appreciate.

Tim wanted to appreciate spontaneity - and _he could -_ especially if it was the kind of thing that had made Kon love Cassie in the first place.  
  


Especially if Dick had been spontaneous when he’d been Robin, like Arsenal was claiming.

"No." 

"Okay. Keep your eye on the damn warehouse, though. One of us has to stay on duty, and I’m too bored for it to be me."

When Arsenal - no, it had to be bad form to use a codename for the man who was giving you your first sexual experience - when _Roy’s_ mouth clamped down on Tim’s cock, Tim felt as though every nerve in his body was being electrocuted. It _hurt,_ but at the same time, Tim wanted to grab both sides of Roy’s head and beg the older man not to ever quit. With one little flick of Roy’s tongue, Tim was suddenly in a world where pink elephants were not only possible, but common place and they feasted upon pork chops topped with butterscotch gravy.

The car which had been his pride and joy was now his enemy. It really _was_ too cramped. Tim couldn’t move forward without hitting the steering wheel and he couldn’t move his legs without hitting the emergency brake. This would have been fine, if he’d simply been doing patrol the way he was supposed to. But Roy’s mouth was doing things to Tim that made him need to be able to move - even as he wanted to do nothing more than sit here and enjoy it.

It was entirely the fault of the conflicting emotions that made Tim momentarily forget his training and allowed a tiny gasp to slip out. In an incredibly cruel gesture, Roy removed his mouth from Tim’s cock long enough to smirk up at him. 

"I’m impressed. It took three tries for me to get Dick to make a noise. I must be getting better with old age."

"Why did you stop?"

Roy allowed one hand to cup Tim’s balls just tightly enough that it felt like everything below Tim’s waist was going to explode. "Sorry about that, Little Bird. Make sure you remember to keep singing for me. Let’s me know where to focus."

A complaint about being called "Little Bird" was lost as Roy’s mouth resumed it’s focus. Moaning in a car while he was supposed to be on duty was the last thing Tim wanted to do, but Roy had requested it and honestly, Batman training really hadn’t included, "How not to moan when someone’s giving you a blow job while you’re on duty."

Tim wondered if he should suggest it.

Stray and unwelcome thoughts about Batman were pushed entirely out of Tim’s head as his lower half suddenly gained a mind all of it’s own and began to jerk despite the lack of room. Two strong hands that were not Tim’s own held his lap in place, and Tim clung for dear life to the steering wheel with one hand and a fistful of Roy’s red hair with the other. 

But his eyes had never left the warehouse, and that tiny little fact was very important to Tim. 

Tim had never had a blow job before, so he really wasn’t sure whether it had been a good one or not. He was sure that he didn’t think he could move, and therefore he was never, ever going to have one while he was on duty again, because if Tarantula did show up, there was absolutely no way Tim could have gotten out of the car and ran after her. 

Roy seemed to realize that Tim couldn’t move, so he very carefully tucked Tim’s cock back into his pants, pulled the armor back into place and made sure everything was buttoned up. Most importantly of all, Roy had swallowed every drop of evidence. 

"Thanks." It seemed lame, to Tim’s ears, but it also seemed strangely appropriate.

"My pleasure."

"Do you want. . . do you need me to . . . reciprocate?" 

Roy laughed and gave one last futile attempt to gain leg room on the passenger side. "Nah, I don’t think we have time. Anytime soon, Spanky Pants will be calling to spoil our fun. He excels at that, and I don’t want to have blue balls the rest of the night just because Nightwing is a controlling freak."

"Oh."

"Some other time, maybe. Providing that the objects of our affections keep insisting on being straight."

When Dick did finally contact them, it was to let them know that both Tarantula and Blockbuster had been caught. Dick sounded genuinely happy, even after Roy had taken the time to gloat about knowing that this particular hideout was a waste of time. Roy once again asked to drive home, and this time, after the second "please" Tim relented.

It seemed like the least he could do for someone who had the potential to teach him how to be spontaneous. 

 ***

 A _cknowledgements:  The title comes from  here:_  

_"We went together like highways and T-birds_  
Saturday sinners and Sunday church. . .   
We went together like memories and long gones  
Cowboys and sad old songs  
After all of the holdin’ on tight that we went through  
You’re damn right I’m gonna miss you."  
-"Damn Right," Terri Clark  
  
The line about weird cult comes from a review of "Of Chocolate, Strawberries, and Batman" over at <http://www.jlaunlimited.com> :  
  
"You know, though, that if Bruce's body is a temple, it's the kind built by some weird cult where they make sacrifices of young boys in brightly-colored ceremonial garb. "  
*****  


 

  



End file.
